How Can I Keep Dancing? [ON HOLD]

How Can I Keep Dancing? ~~~ Chapter 6 ~~~

I still had no idea where he was going with this.

“It’s all in the face. Your face is so simple, yet it never wavers. I want to see passion, yearning, love. All I am getting is sympathy.”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say. Am I fit or unfit for the role?”

He sighs again, and moves slightly closer so that our legs are touching. He looks down on me with his light hazel eyes. “You are a dancer, no? You must show your emotions with your body more than your face. You need to carry what is happening in your mind through your arms, your torso and your legs. I need you to dance – but be open and demanding.”

I didn’t hear half of what he was saying because my mind was still on his leg touching mine. Not even Elijah has gone that far. And for a moment, I felt vulnerable and naïve under James’ gaze.

His index finger sits under my chin as he brings his face closer. “There is it. That,” he indicates to my face. “That right there is your innocence. Your virtue. When you are dancing, I want the audience to see that.”

He dismisses me after that and I can’t seem to leave any quicker as I jump into Henry’s car with shaky legs.

***

I ride my bicycle to Elijah’s as soon as I’m home. I knew I would spend time with my father again that night, and I also had to tell Elijah about him, as well as the Opera on Wednesday night.

Arriving out the front of his white house, I pass the picket fence and lay my bike against the porch. Mr. and Mrs. Mackenzie were already out the front saw me as I rode in, both of them giving me one of their trademark smiles.

“Hello again, Charlotte,” Mary says. We had both gotten past the formalities of our names, and thought first names were much friendlier. “How are you today?”

“Good thank you, Mary. Jonathan.” I nod. “Is Elijah in?”

“He’s around the back in the shed.” Jonathan says with a grin, “You may go around if you like.”

“Thank you.” I say, “Good day to you both,” They both nod back as I walk around to where Elijah’s father said he was.

Seeing the shed, I begin to walk towards it, hearing music playing from inside. I slowly walk in and spot a transistor which was blaring a hit jazz song from the local radio station. I couldn’t see Elijah anywhere, but looking around I was already intrigued by what I found. All around the place were hand-built drawers, shelves, tables and chairs, all made from pine or oak wood. I run my hands over the smooth texture of a bookcase, and was amazed at the fine handy-work. All of my pieces of furniture were ordered in, costing thousands of dollars. I’d never seen people make their own furniture before, yet I wasn’t disappointed. All of it was beautiful.

“See anything you like?” a voice comes from above me and I look up to see Elijah leaning over the railing of the upper storey.

I grin up at him cheekily. “Now I do.”

He smiles too. It was the kind of remark that he would usually say. I was learning well. “I didn’t mean me.” He sinks down and swings down from his post, landing on the ground next to me.

I eye him. “Couldn’t you have just used the stairs?”

“And miss impressing you? Never.”

I laugh, and then look back to the furniture. “This is amazing, Macka. Really it is.”

“Thank you. My father helped me with most of these.” He moves to stand next to an upturned sailing boat. “This one I started a few weeks ago.”